Ace, that was gob-smackingly vile.

From Pat O'Brien's bio:
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Mr. O’Brien graduated from the University of South Dakota. He also studied International Economics at the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies at John Hopkins University in Baltimore, MD; and currently sits on the Board of the Special Olympics.
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The Paul H. Farkin' Nitze School of Advanced International Studies? I was not expecting to learn that about Pat O'Brien. I don't look at the little moustache and eager face and fake-bake skin and think Graduate Work in International Economics at Hopkins. Kennedy School, maybe, yeah, OK.

I guess the dude just looked at his future and realized that in twenty five years, he could be overseeing Paraguay's debt restructuring, or he could be licking Nancy O'Dell's face and heading merrily off to rehab. Tragic. Well, if Wolfowitz doesn't work out for the World Bank, we can always get Pat O'Brien out of Betty Ford:

Mister Chancellor, I am so into you. I just want to go crazy with you next week in Tashkent. If you want to do this, accept a crisis bailout with governance controls, just look up and say YES! Condi's not really into you now, so you'll have to pay special attention to her...

One more O' Brien story and I'm going to bed:
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A source tells us he used to refer to a gay African-American senior producer at "Access Hollywood" as "the Fruit Monkey."

To his face.

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And then there's this amazing blog:

I'm Stuck In Rehab With Pat O'Brien

I highly recommend it.
Good night.

You are a sick man. But hold off on the therapy until you plumb this topic for all its worth.

No, Gerold Nadler is gob-smackingly vile. English doesn't have any word that accurately describes this post.

Or at least one-third of it. The rest is just ace - and that's saying a lot.

Ace,
You owe me five dollars for the keyboard I just ruined with my coffee. How do you expect me to get any work done now? Huh? Answer me!

ACE, ACE, ACE - Ronald Reagan was shot yesteday in 1981 and Johhny Chchran died. But today's top story is about Pat Obrien's dirty talk. Who gives a shit?

I'd rather eulogize the Gipper and curse out a low down scumbag lawyer who helped to create "the race card" than read stupid dirty talk.

Loose sit ACE, tighten it up.

*ferociously slaps 72 Raisins*

Don't you DARE tell Ace to clean up his act. Remember what happened last time??

It was all Pat Boone up in here. Nobody wants that.

Dude, I worry about you sometimes. Having said that, I am trying not to laugh too loud in case the boss hears.

72Virgins,

C'mon, baby, don't be such a square, man.

And I don't like doing those anniversary type obligatory posts. A lot of things the media does -- observing anniversaries-- they do to basically fill column-inches or segments between commericals. That's fine; they have to do that. I don't.

'Sides, there are enough people doing that, I'm guessing, that it's "covered," and one additional post on it wouldn't help.

OTOH, no one else has Pat O'Brien's personal letters.

"PPS: I am signing this letter with a Montblanc duct-taped to my cock."

Beautiful. I can't stop laughing.

I have heard that there are some other letters that Pat O'Brien wrote to:

1) Dusty;
2) Bob Dole's Cock;
3) The fat guy in the ditech.com commercials; and,
4) Lauri Dhue

I understand that the one to Lauri Dhue is especially zesty.

72Virgins:

I, like you, am a Reagan fan. Here are some very nice sites you can visit, just in case you are unfamiliar with them:

http://www.reaganfoundation.org/
http://www.presidentreagan.info/
https://www.ronaldreaganmemorial.com/make_gift.asp

If you ever get the chance to get your way to Simi Valley, the trip is well worth the drive. Two or three hours visiting should do it. And make sure you buy items from the store (if you want to purchase some Reagan stuff; I dropped $350, just got carried away), either online or at the library, because everything goes into the library's fund. And you cannot believe who you might run into. The last time I was out there, I ran into Kiron Skinner, one of the Reagan Library's top scholars. And also, Mike Deaver was there, sitting at the cafe.

I think ace is right. There are a lot of people out there doing the heavy lifting to keep the memory of Reagan alive. The Reagan info page has a good forum for discussion. Hope these links help. They are far better than any newspaper column.

Finallly, have you bought your commemorative stamp book? Those are mighty nice.

God DAMNIT ace. Reading down the first two was funny, and then you had to pull out Gerald "Tiny" Nadler.

I just couldn't read any further after I got to "Can I call you Jerry?"

Oh dear Lord, I think I'm gonna hurl.

Well, thanks. The thing is, that was the weakest piece, and I had no idea how to make it a strong closer.

I still don't think it's as good as Red Lobster, but substituting Gerald Nadler for the original recipient -- Maxine Waters -- seems to have helped escalate the riff.

SAM WAINWRIGHT (phone): Now, here's the point. Mary, Mary, you're in on this too. Now listen. Have you got any money?

GEORGE BAILEY: Money? Yeah . . . well, a little.

SAM: Well, now listen. I want you to put every cent you've got into our stock, you hear? And George, I may have a job for you; that is, unless you're still married to that broken-down Building and Loan. This is the biggest thing since radio, and I'm letting you in on the ground floor. Oh, Mary . . . Mary . . .

MARY HATCH (nervously): I'm here.

SAM: You are so fuckin' hot. I just want to go crazy on you. I want you to suck my cock, maybe eat my balls a little. I just want to get fuckin' nuts. Would you tell that guy I just want to get fuckin' nuts? Fuckin' nuts.

MARY (whispering): He says he wants to get fuckin' nuts...

GEORGE (fiercely): Now you listen to me! I don't want to get fuckin' nuts! I don't want eat cum off anyone's face and I don't want go crazy –– ever –– on anyone! You understand that? I want to do what I want to do. And you're . . . and you're . . . (embracing her) you are so fuckin' hot.

See-dub

"the Fruit Monkey."

oh, that's comedy gold too, man. LMAO.

PS is it OK to laugh at someone else's crude racism? Cuz "the Fruit Monkey" is really funny to me. The sheer inappropriateness is probable why it's funny, but I am laughing right now just thinking of what a collosal dick POB must be to actually do something like that---in public no less.

What is it that "celebrity" does to people?

Thanks, hbg. Yeah, I think the stuff like the Fruit Monkey remark changes what's going on here. If that's true, we're not just laughing at a drunken boor who needs help but a crude, rather sadistic gay-baiting racist. And I think the grad school stuff suggests he's not just Joe South Dakota who suddenly hit the big time and is living it up, but someone who really ought to know better. Remember, we're not laughing with him, we're laughing at him.

I need something to take my mind off the other news today. I don't feel like arguing more Schiavo stuff.

George enters. The house is carpetless, empty -- the rain and wind cause funny noises upstairs. A huge fire is burning in the fireplace. Near the fireplace a collection of packing boxes are heaped together in the shape of a small table and covered with a checkered oil cloth. It is set for two. A bucket with ice and a champagne bottle sit on the table as well as a bowl of caviar. Two small chickens are impaled on a spit over the fire. A phonograph is playing on a box, and a string from the phonograph is turning the chickens on the spit.

Mary is standing near the fireplace looking as pretty as any bride ever looked. She is smiling at George, who has been slowly taking in the whole set-up.

Through a door he sees the end of a cheap bed, over the back of which is a pair of pajamas and a nightie. Ernie exits and closes the door.

MARY (tears in her eyes): Welcome home, Mr. Bailey.

GEORGE (overcome): I'm so fuckin' into you. I don't even know why I'm like this.

They rush into each other's arms and hold each other in ecstasy.

Bert and Ernie, standing in the pouring rain, start singing.

BERT & ERNIE: I want to go craaaa-zy, craaaa-zy on you......

GEORGE: Oh, Mary . . .

MARY: Remember the night we broke the windows in this old house? This is what I wished for. I wished we could get fuckin' nuts.

GEORGE: Let's have some sex. Let's do it.

Allah, I am so fuckin into you.

I love that "Let's have sex. Let's do it."

"Let's have sex" is pretty fuckin' weak dirty-talk. It sort of sounds worse, in a clinical and thoughtless way, than all the stuff about sucking cock.

A shabby, old-fashioned, gas-lit room which has been turned almost inside out and upside down in an effort to locate the missing money. Drawers of an old secretary have been pulled out and are on the floor. Every conceivable place which might have been used by Uncle Billy to put the money has been searched.

George, his hair rumpled, is feverishly pursuing the search. Uncle Billy is seated behind the desk, his head on his hands.

GEORGE: And did you put the envelope in your pocket?

UNCLE BILLY: Yeah . . maybe . . . I thought . . .

GEORGE (shouts): You thought, you thought. You thought eight things tonight.

UNCLE BILLY (piteously): I'm no good to you, George. I . . .

GEORGE: Let me ask you something. Do you like your job, Uncle Billy? Well, do you?

Uncle Billy whimpers.

GEORGE: Listen to me. Do you have any secret hiding place here in the house? Someplace you could have put it? Someplace to hide the money? Put me some fucking knowledge.

UNCLE BILLY (exhausted): I've been over the whole house, even in rooms that have been locked ever since I lost Laura.

GEORGE: There is a lot of loose shit going on around here, Uncle Billy. I don't get it. I don't get it.

Uncle Billy starts sobbing hysterically. George grabs him by the lapels and shakes him.

GEORGE (harshly): What's it gonna be, Uncle Billy? Who were you watching?

UNCLE BILLY (sobbing): I can't think any more, George.

GEORGE: Do you want me to get Vinny Falcone in here to sit and ride your ass?

UNCLE BILLY: I can't think any more. It hurts . . .

George jerks him to his feet and shakes him. Uncle Billy stands before him like a frisked criminal, all his pockets hanging out, empty. George's eyes and manner are almost maniacal.

GEORGE (screaming at him): Don't make a fucking maniac out of me! We're not going to be as strong as our weakest link. This is like football, baseball, like anything else. Now where's that money, you stupid, silly old fool? Where's the money? Do you realize what this means? It means bankruptcy and scandal, and prison! That's how fucking crucial this is.

He throws Uncle Billy down into his chair, and still shouts at him:

GEORGE (cont'd): That's what it means! One of us is going to jail! Well, it's not going to be me. I'm the only important one at this building and loan. That's just the fucking way it is around here.

George turns and heads for the door, kicking viciously at a waste basket on the floor as he goes. Uncle Billy remains sobbing at the table, his head in his arms.

GEORGE: Where's Zuzu?

Thanks, A-double-lizzle.

Now, when I'm spending quiet nights at home crying myself to sleep while "contemplating" the virtues of Donna Reed's sexy ass vacuuming in pearls demeanor, I'm gonna end up thinking about Pat O'Brien too.

And I'm just not that into him. But Donna Reed? Yeah..I'd go crazy on her.

ACE

72Virgins,

C'mon, baby, don't be such a square, man.

Given my history, the image of being a square is quite novel, I find it highly amusing and will propbaly never tire of it.

I know what you mean about the obligatory eulogizing, but what better place to worship and adore the Ronaldus Mangus, the most important leader of the last 1,000 years, or get to call Johnny Cochoran a dirty, low down, cocksucking, mutha' fucking, butt licking, race card playing, gobsmackingly vile scumbag who did great damage to our country and just didn't give a shit?

But like Judge "Turn 'em Loose Bruce" Johnny now faces a very different kind of justice than that he meted out to Nichole Simpson and her boyfriend and he shall not escape the Wrath of God. Selah

There, I said it. Now I feel better.

...and just like that, without warning, another Ace of Spades Epic came to pass.

See-Dubya's comment about Pat O'Brien at SAIS was also friggin' great. I studied at SAIS, and Jesus God am I ever having fits imaging the Pat O'Brien "theory of international relation." Good stuff, all.

I didn't mention Johnny Cochran, quite frankly, because I knew I'd get comments about "good riddance" and the like, and I didn't want that.

As for Reagan-- man, I love Reagan, but I don't do haigiography. I do insults.

ACE - If we can't say good riddance here, where can we? I tried to stick to the facts, that Johnny Cochran was an ugly, goofy, dirty, low down, cocksucking, mutha' fucking, butt licking, race card playing, gobsmackingly vile scumbag who did great damage to our country.

I never said good riddance to Johnny Cochran, but I am not alone in saying that I shall not miss him.

I miss him. He provided the world with the famous Chewbacca Defense.